


momentum equals mass times velocity

by DevilishKurumi



Series: finite simple group [2]
Category: Regular Show
Genre: Humanized, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2012-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 23:09:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilishKurumi/pseuds/DevilishKurumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"the heavier the mood, the faster and farther you'll be willing to go to lighten it."<br/>two stoners making out and some awkward "are-they-aren't-they" feelings.  at least from rigby's side.  cont. of d=r*t. Humanized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	momentum equals mass times velocity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kettugasm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kettugasm/gifts).



            There's music in the air.  Shitty indie music that Mordecai listens to whenever Rigby lets him, which is usually when they're a little high and a little drunk and a lot tired.  Their room is hot and the shades aren't doing much to keep the heat of the summer sunlight out, but Mordecai still has his comforter over his knees, his fingers curled into the sheets below him.  He's shed everything except his briefs with dumb little birds on them, and Rigby had followed his lead, lying there in his Fistpump licensed boxers.

            Mordecai hums along and mumbles the lyrics as he sips from an ugly flask he'd bought for Margaret.  He'd kept it after he'd found out she was dating some new dude named Geraldo.  Man, fuck Geraldo, he'd been a dick.  Just like every other dude Margaret picks over Rigby's bro.  Rigby lies curled against him, lazy and incapable of moving until Mordecai sings, "I keep having these dreams that you were all I needed."  It's like a switch, and suddenly Rigby doesn't think he needs to ask if it's okay to maybe make out a little; he just goes for it, squirming against Mordecai until he's half on top of him, kissing him and getting lazy responses from his maybe-too-high bro that drive him a little crazy.

            Rigby straddles Mordecai's thigh and presses his fingers against the little line of pockmarks on his chest, right where he got bit by a dog in third grade, and Mordecai hisses between his teeth and chews lightly on Rigby's lower lip.  He thinks it's kind of like communication, and that's definitely supposed to mean _hurry up_ , but the music and the heat and the pot are muddling his thoughts.  Before he can think about the repercussions, he's speaking.

            "So, can I suck your dick?"

            It's bold and unheard of between them, and Mordecai looks blindsided.  He doesn't respond, just stares and looks maybe a little like he's about to get hit by a truck.  Rigby carefully pulls him out of his dorky bird-covered briefs, considers the fact that he has never ever gone down on a dude before, and then takes the plunge.  Slowly, though, because he's watched enough porn to know you don't just jump into these things.  You gotta work at it.  Or something.

            He thinks he might be too high for this, right until he hears Mordecai suck in a breath, and then he thinks he could never be high enough to not find that kind of hot.

            It's not what he expected it to be; Mordecai smells kind of weird, and tastes kind of gross, but not in a sweat-and-showerless kind of way.  More like in a way that's utterly Mordecai, and when he presses his tongue awkwardly against the thing in his mouth, he can feel the little gasps of air that result as though they were coming from his own lungs.

            He doesn't try to go all out, even though he desperately wants to, because Mordecai and sad indie music is like the worst combination in the world.  He bobs his head a little, sucks a little, hums even, because he's heard that's something girls do.  Each move brings a weird little exhalation, kind of like moaning and panting without any sound beyond breath.  It's weird.  It's hot.  Mordecai bucks his hips a little and puts a hand against Rigby's temple, brushing long, bony fingers through his hair.

            He hears his name through the haze and heat and it goes straight through him, like a tingly electric shock.  There's a weirdness in feeling a dude get harder in your mouth, though, and so Rigby pulls his head back and straddles Mordecai's thigh again, his hand fisting around Mordecai and taking over where his mouth left off for a minute.

            With his head twisted to one side and his eyes clenched tight, Rigby almost thinks maybe Mordecai's not as into this as he might want to be; but when he relaxes his grip, Mordecai lets out a hiss and jerks his hips, fists twisting in the sheets on either side of them.

            It takes another few seconds before Rigby leans down again, hunching his back and taking Mordecai into his mouth and damn it, he is _going_ to do this, okay.  He's gonna see it through to the end, even if it makes him really gay instead of just kind of bromosexual.

            Mordecai's hand finds his hair again, his fingers running through the tangled mess, and Rigby frees up a hand from his hips to work himself over through his boxers.  He can hear Mordecai's head shifting back and forth on the pillow, and he lets out some more breaths.  Then, like it's some kind of weird reward, he moans out Rigby's name, quiet and half-into the pillow, and comes before either of them can be prepared.

            Rigby splutters and coughs and spits, and Mordecai covers his face with both his hands and says, " _Dude_ ," in that horribly offended tone that means Rigby's social graces aren't really up to snuff.

            " _Jeeze_ ," Rigby mumbles, wiping at his mouth, "Warn a dude next time, that was _seriously_ uncool."

            Mordecai spreads his fingers to look at Rigby, staring up at him with a look that, behind knuckles, looks conflicted.  Then, he reaches out and socks Rigby's shoulder, lightly enough to not bruise, and pulls him down against his side once more.

            They're quiet for a while.  Then...  "Next time?"

            Rigby wants to laugh, but Mordecai sounds pretty messed up, so he just shrugs and says, "If you want."

            It takes a minute, but then Mordecai's hand falls back into Rigby's hair, and Rigby knows enough about his best friend to know that means, _sure._


End file.
